Entering, one is struck by a Shiharu Shiota-like attack of dusty kites, that I mistook for dustbin bags on ropes. Symbol of the rebels during the Mexican Independence War (1810-1821), the kites, in Arturo Hernandez Alcazar's installation, are as symbolic as some of the US symbols in Matthew Day-Jackson work. Next, Bayrol Jimenez' drawings - on the wall, the floor and papers - seems like a Toile de Jouy. Getting closer, one realises the extreme violence of the whole composition, which we have to cross to continue the visit. Hint at the US-Mexican border, and the complex relationships between the two countries?

This exhibition is extremely promising. A video by Alejandro Jodorowsky, shows La Marcha de las Calaveras organised in 2011 to allow fellow Mexicans to mourn their countrymates killed in the drug war. Some scenes look like abstracts from Scream, but why wouldn't they? Further up, one progresses towards Hector Zamora's credibility crisis - or a wind rose blowing air in multiple directions. A metaphor for the lack of decisiveness of governments in the current worldwide crisis?

Jorge Mendez Blake's El Castillo, showing a copy of Kafka's book imprisoned in a brick wall, itself sticking together without any sort of glue or cement, appears to me a representation of the true understanding of Kafka's work. Next, Ilan Liberman's Nino perdido creates almost the same feelings as the Children Memorial in Yad Vashem. The emotion has been growing in this exhibition - and is now at the highest. What a great idea! What a great team of curators! I want to fly to Mexico right now

Pushing us back in emotional territory, Nicolas Pereda's beautiful video Entrevista con la Tierra makes us reflect on our acceptance of death, showing how two Mexican children react to it. After crossing the black video room, Minerva Cuevas' Rio Bravo Crossing. Or a Mexican and politically engaged version of my dear Richard Long

Juan Pablo Macias reinvents the books. Printed on black sandpaper, these anarchists' books aim at destroying neighbouring books, and themselves, if put on a bookshelf. What an interesting idea!

There is too much left to talk about everything. Mariana Castillo Deball is pulling an Orozco. Jonathan Hernandez collages could help the next season of Lie to me. Marcela Armas' I-Machinarius stands half way between Delvoye's Machine a Caca and Kapoor's wax installation at the London Royal Academy two years ago. Loads of films and installations on the drug war and the political situation

The palm of third degree is awarded to Adriana Lara's Art Film I: Ever present, yet ignored, where teenagers comment a non-existing art exhibition. Witty at the highest, and in Italian!

Close to the exit, the Femur de elefante mexicano, piece of Jonathan Hernandez and Pablo Sigg, inspired by Marcel Broodthaers, asks the question: Comment peut-on etre un elephant mexicain?

One rarely hears about Mexican art outside Mexico. Of course, there is the Slim museum and a couple of fairs, but on average, Mexican contemporary seems less the flavour of the month than the Brazilian or Chinese / Indian / Pakistanese. Hopefully this will be rebalanced after this insightful exhibition

J'ai aime: - Interieur (pictured), by Maurice Maeterlinck, directed by Claude Regy, with the troupe of the Shizuoka Performing Arts Centre. Wait a minute. Claude Regy, almost 90 years old, a French theatre monument, pope of minimalism, director of Handke, Tchekov or Nathalie Sarraute. Maurice Maeterlinck, Belgian literature Nobel Prize, half aristocrate de salon, half grand bourgeois, but a socialist, playwright, poet, having written a few marionettes plays (amongst which Interieur). And a Japanese troupe. And yes, it works absolutely brilliantly, which is not so surprising if you think about it. The plot is simple: two people, outside a house, discuss on the best way to announce a family, inside (a l'“Interieur”), the death of one of their daughters. But Regy makes it a complete miracle. Overall speed divided by 10 (as usual with Regy), always present play of lights, this performance fits so well with Japanese theatre and is so soothing that you can get in with the stress of your day, you get out as light as a feather. Well done, Mr Regy, chapeau bas (was performed at the Japanese cultural centre in Paris, but is now over unfortunately)

- Crossing lines, a European TV crime series, the plot of which is quite original: a team of European experts originating from different countries, each with a specialty, congregate in The Hague to solve misteries spanning over several European countries. First season started epicly, with interesting crimes to solve, and a heavy continuous plot across the whole series. The second series, broadcasted currently in France, is not as good, which is often the case. But overall good quality, good direction, and good cast, led by famous Donald Sutherland and French national nimble glory Marc Lavoine

- Westwing (www.westwing.fr/es/de etc) - for me the best decoration and home interior web site. Efficient, very well stocked, it shows you every day a number of appealing objects and pieces of furniture. Very easy to use, simple and timely delivery. No worries if you have missed something you like, it usually comes back within a month or so. Cherry on the cake, they sometimes sell champagne too!

Je n’ai pas aime: - the Tate Britain Turner exhibition - difficult to have step a foot in London in the last century without being drown under Turner paintings. This is probably the fifth or sixth exhibition on the UK domestic celeb in as many years. The angle here is new: Turner’s last years. Although it is difficult not to bow in front of his mastering of light and colours, this exhibition has bored me a little. And also would that not be a better way to show Turner’s late years, to compare his then production with his earlier one? (Tate Britain, London, until 25 January 2015)

- London city airport - the ex-London boutique airport started growing slightly out of control a while ago but although it is normal to get searched, and overall London City is still zillions of times more efficient than any other London or European airport (bar perhaps German or Swedish ones), can we pleeeeaaaase be searched by people who take at least one shower a day?

Je n’ai pas tranche sur: - Hospes de Las Casas del Rey de Baeza - the best hotel in Sevilla, a friend of mine, and great connoisseur of the city told me. My arrival was a disaster. Rain - no one at the door of the hotel to help my travel companion with her luggage. Check in - tow people, two rooms, 20 minutes, still have not understood why. Room (mine) - right on the patio (nice patio, but also the place where people have breakfast and coffee). To be perfectly honest, once the disastrous arrival was over, the hotel is good: quick breakfast service, nice setting in an old Sevillian palace, helpful info on how to move around in the maze of old Seville. I just wish someone mentioned to me there is a pool on the roof

- Il barbiere di Seviglia, by Rossini, in Paris Opera Bastille - imaginative direction and decor, loved the popolana atmosphere, and took onboard the intro note from the opera itself stating that Barbera (Almaviva) decided to sing although he was ill. But the overall performance of the singers was just above average, even the great Karine Deshayes seemed a bit below herself. Special mention to Cornelia Oncioiu, singing Rosina’s servant - the only one to have given the goosebumps

“C’est la rentree”, I was thinking, walking towards Theatre du Chatelet to attend the premiere of Forsythe’s Limb’s Theorem, and almost the premiere of the 2014 edition of Festival d’Automne. “Pas tout a fait”, a friend of mine – appearing suddenly next to me - answers, as if he was reading my mind. “Everyone was there for Pina Bausch on Tuesday”. I could not join so it is definitely my rentree

For those – sadly – unfamiliar with that aspect of Parisian cultural life, the Festival d’Automne is a multi-location Paris-based festival which, every year since 1972, gathers the quintessence of theatre, music, dance and even visual arts, and offers it to the general public as one package, running from September to the following January. Since 2012, it has decided to honour two great artists every year. This year, William Forsythe and Romeo Castellucci

We will come back later to the latter, but tonight, this is the rentree of the former, with its massively famous piece: Limb’s theorem. Le theoreme des Limbes, as it is commonly understood but I cannot help thinking there is a pun, well intended, on the double entendre of the word “limb” (un membre, for my French readers)

It starts discretely. Dark stage. One can notice – only if very focused – some bodies moving around to the far left of the stage. Some people continue to talk in the audience. The new Minister of Culture has not yet arrived, so our French always-on Minister of Culture – Jack Lang if you did not get the joke – is temping. The whole lefty cultural upper crust is here, this is definitely the place to be

As one manages to see more clearly what is on stage, the music gets louder, the movements get faster, the whole scenery gets more agitated. This is the word. Agitated. But this agitation, taking place in the shadow of a gigantic suspended partition which could easily pass as a photovoltaic panel, immediately makes a lot of sense

Thom Willens’ music is here of course. Meaningful in its own right, but incredibly relevant to Forsythe’s choregraphy. The light is an integral part of the performance too. It is dim to start with, and I spent the first ten minutes wondering when it will get switched on. It does, but progressively and without people noticing it, the stage is in semi-full light

The colours are pure black and white, and often only the shadows remain. Someone – making faces – is sitting near the panel, and turns it by a quarter of a circle every five minutes. This splits the stage – in which every little area, especially the border ones, is used – in two parallel worlds. The limbs and the rest of the world? But Dante had 7 different types of limbs... I would personally campaign for avoiding to search for any rationale interpretation. One should just get immersed into the magnificent baudelairian Correspondences of music, dance, light and colours that is developing in front of them

This ballet was created in 1990, I caught myself thinking. How contemporary – 21st century contemporary – was it in 1990! Massive! The stage again dives into dark. This is really an alternance de joie et de peines, as sung by Honore Bostel (reminiscent of so many good memories in our twenties). This could also be what is going on within Star Trek’s Enterprise when no one is looking

End of the first act

The second one (Enemy in the Figure) is even more a full Forsythe play as scenography is also Forsythe’s (whilst it is Michael Simon in the first and third acts). And it is even more brilliant. Colour is making an entry. Hum... Colour, say, white, which was clearly absent from the first act, all black. The choregraphy starts by what looks dangerously like what my personal trainer insisted I did last week: side plank, chair against the wall. Forsythe’s troupe does it without even thinking about it

The central panel has been replaced by what will be identified later as a wooden curve partition, lying on the floor, unlike in the first act. Looks like one of the shapes used by Germany-born artist Charlotte Posenenske in some of her late series

Costume diversity is provided by dots, ample shirts or trousers with fringes. The light becomes suddenly cold. Surgical. And then gets back to the shadow of black and white, forgetting brown behind. With the arrival of the brown colour, the music becomes slightly more Moroccan. The choregraphy as well

The stage looks definitely like a theatre stage during an Ostermeier-directed Ibsen play. Massively reminiscent of Ghosts (Gengangere in Norwegian) he directed in les Amandiers two years ago

And suddenly the white shapes disappear, as in a dream. The music fades away. End of the second act

I will not comment as much on the third act as I liked it less. From Star Trek, we have gone to Doctor Who. The panel turned partition seems now a piece of a telescope. Or a gigantic nutshell, quite aggressive against the 27-people strong troupe. A sail is oscillating in the background

The choregraphy is still awfully precise: movements and gestures seem kind of lifted in silence, and unvariably end on the right beat of percussions. What an ensemble, for a music and a choregraphy that are supposed to live their own lives...

Again, the troupe’s agitation seems to vanish progressively. Lines are forming. Some dancers disappear. Light also is disappearing. The curtain starts falling again. For the third time. This is the end?!? What? It only just started. 2 hours ago actually, but it definitely feels like it

If you don’t have your tickets already, this is definitely worth trying every (legal) trick to get some, as this show is only on for two more nights (Thursday 5 and Friday 6 September, Theatre du Chatelet, Paris)

Good luck. And if you fail, book your tickets to Lyon or Frankfurt, where Forsythe’s choregraphies are usually performed. And don’t forget: the Festival d’Automne still shows five pieces by Forsythe, especially the massive In the dark, somewhat elevated... Lots to think about

“C’est la rentree”, I was thinking, walking towards Theatre du Chatelet to attend the premiere of Forsythe’s Limb’s Theorem, and almost the premiere of the 2014 edition of Festival d’Automne. “Pas tout a fait”, a friend of mine – appearing suddenly next to me - answers, as if he was reading my mind. “Everyone was there for Pina Bausch on Tuesday”. I could not join so it is definitely my rentree

For those – sadly – unfamiliar with that aspect of Parisian cultural life, the Festival d’Automne is a multi-location Paris-based festival which, every year since 1972, gathers the quintessence of theatre, music, dance and even visual arts, and offers it to the general public as one package, running from September to the following January. Since 2012, it has decided to honour two great artists every year. This year, William Forsythe and Romeo Castellucci

We will come back later to the latter, but tonight, this is the rentree of the former, with its massively famous piece: Limb’s theorem. Le theoreme des Limbes, as it is commonly understood but I cannot help thinking there is a pun, well intended, on the double entendre of the word “limb” (un membre, for my French readers)

It starts discretely. Dark stage. One can notice – only if very focused – some bodies moving around to the far left of the stage. Some people continue to talk in the audience. The new Minister of Culture has not yet arrived, so our French always-on Minister of Culture – Jack Lang if you did not get the joke – is temping. The whole lefty cultural upper crust is here, this is definitely the place to be

As one manages to see more clearly what is on stage, the music gets louder, the movements get faster, the whole scenery gets more agitated. This is the word. Agitated. But this agitation, taking place in the shadow of a gigantic suspended partition which could easily pass as a photovoltaic panel, immediately makes a lot of sense

Thom Willens’ music is here of course. Meaningful in its own right, but incredibly relevant to Forsythe’s choregraphy. The light is an integral part of the performance too. It is dim to start with, and I spent the first ten minutes wondering when it will get switched on. It does, but progressively and without people noticing it, the stage is in semi-full light

The colours are pure black and white, and often only the shadows remain. Someone – making faces – is sitting near the panel, and turns it by a quarter of a circle every five minutes. This splits the stage – in which every little area, especially the border ones, is used – in two parallel worlds. The limbs and the rest of the world? But Dante had 7 different types of limbs... I would personally campaign for avoiding to search for any rationale interpretation. One should just get immersed into the magnificent baudelairian Correspondences of music, dance, light and colours that is developing in front of them

This ballet was created in 1990, I caught myself thinking. How contemporary – 21st century contemporary – was it in 1990! Massive! The stage again dives into dark. This is really an alternance de joie et de peines, as sung by Honore Bostel (reminiscent of so many good memories in our twenties). This could also be what is going on within Star Trek’s Enterprise when no one is looking

End of the first act

The second one (Enemy in the Figure) is even more a full Forsythe play as scenography is also Forsythe’s (whilst it is Michael Simon in the first and third acts). And it is even more brilliant. Colour is making an entry. Hum... Colour, say, white, which was clearly absent from the first act, all black. The choregraphy starts by what looks dangerously like what my personal trainer insisted I did last week: side plank, chair against the wall. Forsythe’s troupe does it without even thinking about it

The central panel has been replaced by what will be identified later as a wooden curve partition, lying on the floor, unlike in the first act. Looks like one of the shapes used by Germany-born artist Charlotte Posenenske in some of her late series

Costume diversity is provided by dots, ample shirts or trousers with fringes. The light becomes suddenly cold. Surgical. And then gets back to the shadow of black and white, forgetting brown behind. With the arrival of the brown colour, the music becomes slightly more Moroccan. The choregraphy as well

The stage looks definitely like a theatre stage during an Ostermeier-directed Ibsen play. Massively reminiscent of Ghosts (Gengangere in Norwegian) he directed in les Amandiers two years ago

And suddenly the white shapes disappear, as in a dream. The music fades away. End of the second act

I will not comment as much on the third act as I liked it less. From Star Trek, we have gone to Doctor Who. The panel turned partition seems now a piece of a telescope. Or a gigantic nutshell, quite aggressive against the 27-people strong troupe. A sail is oscillating in the background

The choregraphy is still awfully precise: movements and gestures seem kind of lifted in silence, and unvariably end on the right beat of percussions. What an ensemble, for a music and a choregraphy that are supposed to live their own lives...

Again, the troupe’s agitation seems to vanish progressively. Lines are forming. Some dancers disappear. Light also is disappearing. The curtain starts falling again. For the third time. This is the end?!? What? It only just started. 2 hours ago actually, but it definitely feels like it

If you don’t have your tickets already, this is definitely worth trying every (legal) trick to get some, as this show is only on for two more nights (Thursday 5 and Friday 6 September, Theatre du Chatelet, Paris)

Good luck. And if you fail, book your tickets to Lyon or Frankfurt, where Forsythe’s choregraphies are usually performed. And don’t forget: the Festival d’Automne still shows five pieces by Forsythe, especially the massive In the dark, somewhat elevated... Lots to think about

Parisians become like Londoners. They queue. They spend their Saturday afternoon queuing. And even in queues, privileges still remain

As far as I am concerned, I hate queuing. Or rather I don't do queuing, as one dear American friend of mine once told me. Or if I do queuing, it is always VIP queues. Or the shortest one. The one for people with some kind of privileges

This is how I was rationalising my queuing in a cold Saturday afternoon that was the penultimate day of the Frida Kahlo exhibition at the Musee de l'Orangerie in Paris. Meno male che non piove, per verità

Is Kahlo alone, or Kahlo and Rivera? I did not know this as the two of them are so undissociable. Montaigne et La Boetie. Castor et Pollux. Abel et Cain. Yes, Abel et Cain rather

The first room is cubist. One can be anywhere. This is Rivera’s pre-Kahlo period, one that is less well known of this big (in both meanings) artist's life. But the exhibition really starts with the Casa Azul. Or rather a sort of awkward representation of it. This will be the main nest of the couple, which is at the same time a great pair, artistically, politically, personally

I am eager to see if this exhibition will go in detail on Diego's murals - but how to transport them?, on their relationship with Trotsky, whether it will render the uncomparable atmosphere of the real Casa Azul in Coyoacan – one of the most charming areas of Mexico DF –, or that of the San Francisco school of arts that owes a lot to Rivera

The first real room of the exhibition is a cabinet de curiosites on the couple's life. Drawings, sketches, Frida's painted genealogical tree. Interesting but I pass quickly. Next room is the real deal. It proved later to be the only room...

But I cannot find the First Painting. In the bus, I think it is called. It describes Frida's accident, which was the first step towards her life as a painter. Or rather her life before the accident, painted five or six years later I believe. No trace either of these deeply moving paintings which show her with a broken spin, replaced by a machine gun, or her dying in a hospital. Kahlo always paints her personal, intimate story (“I don’t paint dreams or nightmares, I paint my own reality”). Here, lots of portraits. We are one step further. But I feel the exhibition has jumped over some important moments

Hurray. In the bus. L'autobus en francais. The only painting by Kahlo where she does not represent herself broken, shattered, a pezzi. This bus is a soothing piece. The only one Kahlo painted

On the opposite wall, lots of portraits by Rivera. Dolores Patino, her biggest collector and patron, lots of Indians, Lalane the poet. All interesting pieces but the link between those and with Frida's works is unclear

Back to a Frida wall. Corazon, cactus y feto (s.d.) is also a major one. And so is Flor de la vida (1944). We sort of have penetrated in the lair of a Mexican Doctor Who. El circulo (1950) looks like the ancestor of Hirst's spin painting. Small size

On the back wall, Kahlo's still lives. In no particular order. Difficult to get around and about

In the middle of the big room, there is another room. Peculiar set up but why not? Near the entrance, Retrato de Luther Burbank, a la maniere des Surrealist painters. This is a corpse, giving birth to a tree trunk, giving birth to tree leaves, giving birth to a man, Luther Burbank. Who is, appunto, a horticulturist. The circle of life, if we want to paraphrase two of her titles

I step into the central sanctuary of the exhibition. It IS a sanctuary. All Kahlo's main paintings are here. La columna rota (1944, pictured) to show her post her bus accident. A machine gun as plaster, what's not to like? La mascara de la locura (1945). The madness of her passion for Diego, twice married, and separated once more. A few auto-portraits with a small monkey. Symbol of death, isn't it? Mi nana y yo (1937), symbol of her happy childhood with her native American nanny. Sin esperanza (1945) where she pukes her bowels. Sublime Henry Ford hospital (1932) where she represents the impossibility for her to give birth. And finally the most bloody of all, Unos quantos piquetitos (1935) where she represents herself in her bedroom, victime of a contemporary serial killer

I don't want to leave the sanctuary as the exhibition is already finished. It was short, not always crisp. But I would have queued even more to see more iconic pieces of the divine Kahlo. My only regret is that they have not been more paintings, and more on the political engagement of the famous-infamous couple. This kind of exhibition should be didactic, and I feel for whoever did not know anything of their life, they have not learnt much more.

My other regret? Not to have posted this early enough for those who have not yet seen it, still to be able to visit the exhibition. But I am sure there will be another Kahlo exhibition shortly, somewhere in Europe. I shall be quicker next time

As I get into Palais de Tokyo for the penultimate day of Parreno, I realise a few things have changed: 1) the location of the desk; 2) the entrance fee, which I believe was inexistent before (but maybe I am wrong?); and 3) the permanent pieces that were supposed to stay forever have disappeared, at least on the ground floor near the entrance

Never mind, I want to see what Parreno has made off the Palais de Tokyo. What a luxury to have such a massive space, in the cosy heart of Paris, that is transformable as one likes it, and offers so many possibilities. For the record, it is now a delicious restaurant (I have improved considerably my opinion on Monsieur Bleu compared to my review in its first week of existence in spring), and a multi-purpose concert hall, underground and brand new

Tout est illusion, in Parreno's world. The entrance itself is part of the exhibition. My earlier comment of the entrance desk having moved was correct. It has been moved by Parreno himself, to create contre-jour with employees and visitors. And if the permanent works of art that populated the Palais when it re-opened in 2012 have disappeared, it is to allow Parreno to blur the windows (see picture). We are isolated from the outside, visually as well

56 Flickering Lights are disseminated throughout the ground floor. Hold on, this is called floor 2. They switch on and off at the silent rhythm of Tchaikovsky's Petrushka. Why Petrushka? No idea. The story of a puppet that comes to life. It cannot be random

I step into Parreno's world, feeling like the Mad Hatter penetrating in a world that is already too big for me. As I move nearer the gigantic screen towards the silent head of a new born (Anna, don't confuse this with the film, Hannah...), I am able to see the screen less and less. Playing on contrasts, Parreno turns upside down our beliefs and dwarfs us. Bad for self-esteem. Good to lose arrogance. And hold on, the screen is clear. I can see through it. Can I walk through it? Am not sure. Close, it looks like shutters in a house in La Baule

Next space, musical. As I get closer the piano shuts up, which does not seem to disturb the 30-odd people religiously sitting on the dirty staircase that leads to nowhere. We are in Liam Gillick's Factories in the snow, where a disklaviers piano is being snowed at. There is no other way to say this. And the snow is black. Why would it not be? Funnily I have a very similar piano at home. It plays without a pianist. Judging by the astonishment on people's face, it is the first time they see one. Funny

Petrushka sounds like a well-educated and polished Bela. Bartok I mean. Two German couples are here. Was machen sie hier? Keine Ahnung... I would not have thought it would be an appealing exhibition for foreigners. And they don't look a bit like contemporary art rats. Mystery...

The piano shuts up again. I decide to move, carrying away some black snow with me

The next room is even more Alice in Wonderland fantasy. I am going through Dominique Gonzalez-Forrester's bookshelves as Alice was crossing the mirror. Just to find a changing exhibition where every day a drawing by Cage is replaced with a drawing by Cunningham (in case you have lost the link, Merce Cunningham’s troop of dancers danced Petrushka in New York, and this ballet is one Parreno wants to pay a tribute to). This took place in Margaret Roeder Gallery in 2002 and is simply re-enacted here. Why not?

As I exit the clandestine, geheimnisvoll, room of drawings, the light in the main space has disappeared. Great. The big colourful boards on the wall, which look like a hybrid between Vermeersch and Rutault when the light was on, now become understandable. And visible. Of course, one needs the light to disappear to see. How did I not think about it first. Renseignements pris, these are Parreno's old projects. His ghosts to some extent. That appear only in the dark. La boucle est bouclée, as the light brusquely reappears

With the light back on, I can see the robot that mimicks Parreno's handwriting. Only Delvoye's now famous machine is missing....

Down on the first floor, following some more flickering lights. And off to the Marquee. That is, a collection of 16 suspended neon lighted shapes that switch on and off alternatively, each with their specific sound. The lights flash on the rhythm of Tchaikovsky's music. C’est l'art total. I catch myself thinking about the amount of technology necessary to make this appear all that simple. Amazing

The rotonda, next, is soundtracked with the noise of the steps of Cunningham's dancers – here comes the link. C'est la non-danse at its paroxysm. Longue vie à Jerome Bel! And all this under the ultimate equations of I-cant-remember-whom (back home, Wikipedia is telling me Laurent Derobert), the only permament piece that I have been able to spot so far

Marilyn is recreated on a clear screen through a camera (the look), a robot (the handwriting) and a computer (the voice). But why on earth this fake snow - whitish this time - in the room's corners?

I love the automated doors (see next post). Of course, they don't open on anything. That would be too simple. But when they open, the sound of neighbouring Paris embankments get heard in the room... Eh non, Monsieur, Monsieur Bleu (the entrance of which is in the same room) is not part of the exhibition... Un malin, celui-la

Another piano, another Petrushka

Furthermore than the wood of Marquees, the Continuously Habitable Zones (C.H.Z), shown on another film, look like Baudelaire's forest of Correspondances. They echo the noise in the ground underneath the Palais de Tokyo, whilst this deeply imbricated garden has been created in Portugal. Still feel like the mad hatter, running to my non-birthday party

Where one of the guests may be Annlee. "Which you can write whatever way you want" shouts a loudspeaker. She is the virtuality of one of the last spaces of this exhibition. That turns into reality, incarnated by a not-more-than-eleven years old Lolita, of flesh and bone, that wanders around in the exhibition. In front of a manga-like film. I am going to sit down. Maybe the bravest of the visitors will think I am part of the exhibition too? I feel like Orozco policemen...

Last floor down (I love going down, in the bowels of the earth, to dicover always more and more of this superb exhibition). Some intra space is locked down. Looks like the Penguin's headquarters in Batman. And another wood. Of screens with Zidane's image on each of them. 17 screens showing what 17 cameras have captured in a football match in 2005. Zidane as a piece of art. This is not the first time

It is over, and I am still followed by the Flickering Lights as I go back up from the arty catacombes. Brilliant show, which you have until tomorrow Sunday 12 January to see

And oh, one piece of recommendation to Ms Filipetti, French minister of culture: why not select Philippe Parreno for Monumenta 2015? I am sure someone has already thought about it. But it is not sure if he will accept...

- the new email search function in iOS 7: type a word and all the emails including that particular word will appear, in decreasing order of importance (ie first the emails that have this word in the recipient / sender, then in subject, then in the body of the email). This in and of itself is a good solace for the rest of iOS 7 which has so many shortcomings and bugs. And for the next must-have improvement: a Blackberry-type categorisation of contacts (the iPhone one drives me absolutely crazy…)

- Mary Goodnight: in lieu of Tse, the now deceased awful Thai canteen opposite the Murat, porte d'Auteuil in Paris, Thiou, of Thiou-and-tigre-qui-pleure-et-qui-nourrit-tous-les-politiques-de-la-place fame, has dropped her suitcases. And this is a revolution. Delicious and original salmon carpaccio, excellent thai beef salad with noodles, good (but still perfectible) crying tiger (…), over friendly staff, and a very spacious terrace, this is a lot better, and completely of the right caliber to steal customers away from le Murat opposite, the quality of which has gone downhill over the years

- Nano, the new canteen in Montorgueil designed by Ora-Ito (14 rue Bachaumont, Paris 2e, pictured). Simple principle: you pick as many small verrines as you like, savoury or sweet, warm or cold, they range from salmon tartare to scallop risotto, from quinoa tabouleh to duck parmentier. Plus delicious soups and sandwiches

Je n'ai pas aimé:

- the lack of updates of the Luxe City Guides - once the best dinner or birthday present one could make, they have turned into a bit of a disappointment owing to lack of updates (and the very in the know feature of the advice was precisely their main attraction) and lack of new cities being available. Schade!

- the closure of Gare du Nord's Grand Voyageur lounge in the week ends - what? Why cannot one be a Grand Voyageur on Saturdays?

- Canal +, altogether. I have been a subscriber since the first day of the channel. 5 times over the last 4 weeks, I have reactivated my rights (which already prompts the question, why did I need to do this?). 5 times, I failed to receive the encrypted TV channel. Tired and annoyed by the time wasted, I decide to send my cancellation letter: no problem sir, you will be disconnected in October 2014. What are the consumers' right associations doing??

Je n'ai pas tranché sur:

- the St James hotel in Trouville sur Mer, Calvados - very charming little hotel, a stone's throw away from the beach. Most of the 10 bedrooms nicely refurbished, very Laura Ashley style; ueber-helpful man of the house Christian, advising on nice nearby restaurants but also cooking excellent breakfast. All in all very charming, if you are in the suite (room 9) or one of the largest bedrooms (1, 4, 5 or 8). Not in one of the simple rooms. Could do with a mini-bar in the rooms, and a larger drawing room, but all in all a very pleasant alternative to soul-less Barriere colony, and very affordable (www.hotel-saint-james.fr)

Je veux essayer:

- Hotel Montaigne, the relatively new hotel opened right next to Bar des Theatres, avenue Montaigne, in Paris. Whether for a shopping week end, or for a drink before or after the great Theatre des Champs-Elysees, this hotel, decorated by Pierre-Yves Rochon, may provide the right place to chill. Will try it soon (www.montaigne-hotel.com)

When driving up there, one crosses awful little villages that have been destroyed by human greed and utter need to spend conges payes on the French Riviera. Upon arrival, the landscape changes and becomes more green - but everything looks and feels uber-organised. 15 euros to get in, 5 euros to take photos. The whole space is taken over by philo-superstar BHL’s Les aventures de la verite exhibition. But when entering the garden, the same Chillida, Hepworth, Calder, Leger and other artists that have greatly contributed to build the Maeght family reputation

But let's start with this summer most talked about exhibition. It is supposed to show the links between Art and Philosophy - and has attracted a number of half-celebs, some of them having had the privilege of Monsieur Levy in person

First room, the entrance. The curse of the shadows. The common theme seems to be Plato and his cave. Otherwise, what is there in common between Morandi, transformist British artist Grayson Perry and Beuys's Fettfleck (fat stain) for instance? In the second half of the first room, a few interesting and surprising pieces. An etching showing the birth of painting by Joseph-Benoit Sauvée looks stunning: a girl draws her fiance's shadow on a wall before he leaves. Perhaps the most relevant piece in this first room. At this point, the links between shadows, the cave, Plato and the artists appear magically clear. And I am surprised not to see a Soulages here. Too easy perhaps? Huang Yong Ping's Plato cavern is stunning: through a very small hole, one can see inside a humongous resin grotto, with bats shadows, and buddhas and talibans... Makes one think

Moving to room 2, excitement grows. The artist has fallen in Plato's cave. How to make him (her?) worthy again? BHL summons the Bible and Veronica, who gave Jesus her veil on Via Dolorosa. If Jesus himself has printed his face on Veronica's veil, it means that printing images can be holy after all. Again in room 2, this is not a contemporary piece that draws my attention, but a piece by Mignard, Saint Luke painting the Virgin. Again, BHL chooses a theme (revolving around Veronique), and goes around it: after multiple representations of Veronique, and her veil, the veil alone with pieces by Tapies and the more confidential Wolfgang Gaefgan. At times though, it goes a bit too far: not every woman with a light piece of clothing can be called a Veronique, and I can't help wondering why Fortuny's Nudo femminile di spalle has found its way in this otherwise stunning show. Moving down, there is a Garouste. One of my favourite painters. But suddenly afterwards, for the Bonnard nude, the leaflet shows BHL's cheekiness: perhaps the curator has left his imagination run, it says. Yes, he has, and we are relieved - but not surprised - that he realises and acknowledges it. Room 2 ends majestuously, with mimeographed images of Jackie O, still Jackie K, on a printed veil, by Warhol

At this point, what strikes me beyond the mere thinking process behind assembling these pieces, is the multiplicity of their origins - as if the curator had taken a universal catalogue of all the world's works of art of all times

The pre-room 3 is less clear. It is the third act of the first two: 1) the artists were in the dark, 2) the artists come to light, and 3) the artists retaliate and send the philosophers to the shadows. Baldessari OK, Sophie Calle why not - although the philosophical link is a bit tenuous - but Picabia and Abramovic, not really here. Let's move on. The rest of room 3, although displaying beautiful pieces - Ensor, Garouste again, Leger, Pei-Ming, Basquiat, to name a few - has no immediate link with the story BHL wants to tell us. N'importe, let's continue, and let's perhaps forget about wanting to rationalise a story

Room 4 is no clearer in terms of fil conducteur of the story - but again one is amazed by the universality of the artists shown here. Kiefer, Soulages - not the most relevant to make BHL's points - Meese, Ellsworth Kelly, dear to the Maeght's heart, even Opalka are summonned to tell the philosophical story. The story though becomes pointillist, we seem no longer invited to the grand show of the philosophical history, but to a concatenation of small stories, the sum of which represents our curator's message. And when the ingredients are as prestigious and stunning as those here, we have to abide

In room 5, art wins by KO over philosophy. Is BHL really a philosopher? But hold on, there are still two rooms to go? Room 5 is a good cliffhanger: what is coming next, I catch myself worrying, climbing the steps to room 6?

Expectedly, in room 6, philosophy wins back. And the story becomes clearer. Man Ray is called to help, so are Duchamp and his many portraitists, Klein and his blue sculptural portraits, a brilliant Sol LeWitt and an ueber-witty Burgin (Lei Feng, 1974). There is also talk of Isidore Isou and Guy Debord, with their inspirator Gabriel Pomerand. On pressent une fin heureuse. What if room 7 was to put philo and art on an equal footing?

Here comes room 7 - and final. Lots of colours. And the expected truce. Art and philosophy are good friends after all, and BHL, in this magnificent exhibition has shown that he can master both, very impressively. Let's look around us: Matisse, Arroyo, Vezzoli, Boucher, Bacon, Giacometti, Barcelo, Basquiat again, Tintoretto, BHL has invited a who's who of ancient, modern and contemporary creation to the reconciliation of art and speech. And he has even set the scene, by Immendorff. What could the scene be, if not Le Flore (pictured)? Mister Levy, you are cheeky – of course not the best piece of this extraordinary exhibition, but such a wink that I had to show it

What I have attended in the last three hours (yes, three hours) is really a parcours initiatique. It is a didactic way to teach philosophy from art, by underlining one philosophical interpretation that artists may or may not have wanted to give their works. It is artistico-philosophical exegesis, where BHL takes us by the hand and leads the way. Well done, you have given me the urge to read Plato, Nietzsche and Heidegger again

Paris. July. Big sun. What big? Huge sun. More than 35 degrees. Decided to leave the pool and work on my general culture

After a failed attempt at Fondation Cartier - given the queue, I did my usual trick of wanting to become a mecene, and entering with the card. Unfortunately there was no one to take donations and the guard at the entrance sounded as if he could hardly understand why a French man in shorts would come on a sunny Saturday afternoon to the middle of Denfert-Rochereau to give a cheque to a foundation and not even want to see the exhibition. Was he so wrong after all?

So I decide to head to La Maison Rouge. Recurring readers would already know all the good I think of La Maison Rouge. This is one of the top 3 contemporary art places in Paris for me. And they are always so innovative - and so nice. 4 exhibitions a year, this one is the summer one. My Joburg. And it is about Johannesburg. This belongs to the cycle of unusual artistic cities, the first of which was last year's My Winnipeg - OK, they could have been more original with the title. I still have not convinced the team there to do a whole show on Kluj, Hungary. But I am resilient, watch out for the Hungarian scene in....2020

Back to Jozi. I only know three artists from there: Goldblatt, William Kentridge (which I missed at the Comedie Francaise last week but saw in Rio a few months ago) and Robin Rhode. All photographers, at least partially. All of whom I stopped short of buying a couple of years ago. Should probably have. Inside the exhibition, one is greeted by a gigantic collection of photos by Mikhael Subotzky and Patrick Waterhouse (no, the other Waterhouse...) - a systematic photo of each window and door of Ponte City, flagship Joburg building. Reminds me straightaway of the beautiful Goldblatt photos that Marian Goodman showed 2-3 years ago in Paris. Intimacy through a window. A recurring SouthAf theme?

Am a bit skeptical on the opening installation by Malcomess and Kreutzfeld (a curious name association I have to say): apart from their index map which is vaguely reminiscent of some of the work Gilles Barbier does on words, this looks like some has opened Amelie Poulain's box and pinned all the contents on a grey wall in a pretty disorderly fashion. Next

Next are films and photos on Joburg as a city, including some of the great David Goldblatt, even though I prefer those taken inside and looking at the city through windows, with multiple layers of images. These would be amongst his most recent work, post 2010. Sue Williamson's video box, walking the passer-by through the difficulties of the immigrants to South Africa post Mandela elections, is incredibly reminiscent of the work Gillian Wearing did on her family, not least because you see a film of the two witnesses in front of you, they speak and yet they do not move the lips. But they move still, it is not a photo. Unfortunately what they are saying is the common lot of most immigrants to anywhere

I like Sabelo Mlangeni's series on female street cleaners, "the invisible women". Don't know why but it reminds me of some of the scenes of the excellent Reunification des Deux Corees by Pommerat last year

First quasi-revelation of this exhibition, Europa by Nandipha Mntambo, representing her with a buffalo head. Interesting to walk inside Nitegeka series of Obstacle - you feel oppressed straightaway. What is striking in Kudzanai Chiurai (also represented by Marian Goodman) painting is that at first glance, the black characters do not show up; one sees a nice Mickey Mouse. But second glance: plenty of black figures with worrying faces - why are they smiling? Are they playing tricks? - so one's look goes back to the reassuring Mickey Mouse. But here again, wrong impression: Mickey seems to have huge teeth, be part of the whole plot and not really well-meaning. So interesting! I also love his portraits of imaginary SouthAf government - very close to Kehinde Wiley portraits... Telling

Gerhard Marx' Scion is the black version of Penone's Respirare l'ombra. Two opposite and not categorised forms of land art

Willen Boshoff's Nice Guys has attracted my curiosity: from the far, the most disgusting collection of ties. Come nearer, each tie is associated with the name of "nice guy" - ranging from Charles Manson to Saddam Hussein and George W Bush... No comment - and a number, the number of deaths they are supposed to be responsible for...

The next room includes a lot of findings. The textile pieces "à messages" by Lawrence Lemaoana, an old rugbyman born in 1982; the wooden characters carved by Johannes Segogela; or the "deroutés" prints by Brett Murray, using the old apartheid boards to denounce present corruption and clientelism. History repeating... This exhibition is definitely getting increasingly better. The two Cindy Shearman wannabes in the next room are also interesting, as, although they use the same means as Shearman - ie use their own body to impersonate characters or situations - they both choose a different angle of attack. My favorite one: Rose's Mami, 2001

Going through these two series of lesbian portraits by Zanele Muholi is quite impressive: you feel judged immediately, as though they knew what you are thinking. In the next room, the mega-installation by Jane Alexander (pictured), with double "barbeles" and 1000 "machettes" is also scary and although one cannot get inside, it definitely creates a feeling of unease. Are we not experiencing art, justement?

The end of the exhibition is a fireworks, that culminates in the work of the four female artists downstairs. No limit in what they represent and how they say it, although young, they use their hidden nemesis to convey the history of their forefathers

A big thank you to the Maison Rouge team to make us discover, once more, an original artistic scene, that few of us would have otherwise seen

- Queen of the Stone Age - the new album by this California-born, rock band founded in 1996 by Josh Homme, and, from the confession of its leader, the one that was most trouble to produce, is called Like Clockwork... And it may work like clockwork in the rich discography (5 albums already) of this charismatic band. There will be some for all tastes, and possibly even more for those who are not long-lasting fans of QOTSA (www.qotsa.com)

- L'Assiette des Mondes - in the countryside near Honfleur, a not so charming house from the outside. Step inside, and you will find the neverending smile of the owner / waitress / chef's wife and a welcome alternative to the traditional cuisine normande. Coming from all over the world, you can taste tajine, curries and fajitas, in an always changing menu. The owners are very present on the web, which is great to make this place better known. Congrats, we had a very good dinner (www.assiettedesmondes.fr)

- Taryn Simon, American-born, Berlin-based artist born in 1974. Her latest series, put together between 2008 and 2011 is called A Living Man declared dead and other Chapters. It is a systematic work about different outside of the ordinary bloodlines (eg rabies-infected rabbits in Australia, family of a terrorist or that of a living man that was declared dead by the authorities, which gives its tongue-in-cheek title to the whole series). Each work is also beautifully presented, in three parts: the first one is the systematic ordering of photos of members of the bloodline, the central part tells the story and the third one collects details - Taryn calls it her footnotes. Was presented a couple of years ago in Berlin's Hauptbanhof, which was a grand setting for this immense work. Pieces available at Almine Rech Gallery in Paris or Brussels, and at Gagosian in London or New York. Or buy the book on her website: www.tarynsimon.com

- la Flambee - good restaurant in the centre of Deauville, with exquisite meat. A good alternative to the Barriere chain

- le Cafe Francais - new Costes outpost in Bastille, Paris, refurbished by India Madhavi. Several rooms, several atmospheres. And an original food menu, with some traditional Costes dishes and some trouvailles, such as cold hake with mayo and pot-au-feu revisited with meatballs. Nice staff, even nicer with the somebodies...

- the Blandings - not enough episodes of Downton Abbey to keep you busy? Try the Blandings, an ITV series with the phenomenal Jennifer Saunders (the crazy one in AbFab). Clearly you won't have the unduplicable Maggie Smith asking "Why does every day involve a fight with an American" when sitting on a rotating chair, but some parts ought to be remembered. Here is a sample:

1) When discussing prospects of a dog food business: "Is Lisbon in America? Not especially. Oh, so much for the better"

2) To her brother wearing a straw hat to go to the Shropshire show: "Hat, patrician bearing and chop chop"

3) After a car crash into a tree: "Oh, this tree has been put there only recently. Please move it back to its original position"

- seeing people at the airport during the summer holiday season rushing to a boarding gate, just to find out the boarding of their flight had not yet started... Cruel, I know

Je n'ai pas aime:

- that two out of three Parafe cabins - these are the booths that scan your passport and your fingerprints in Paris without having to go through the usual lack of politeness of a custom clerk, great system, registration mandatory - in the busiest CDG terminal (2E) were broken on the busiest day of the year (3 August). Very smartly - unemployment counter measure? - Paris airports put a guy at the entrance of the lonely functioning booth to show people how to place their passport on the reader. Really? Judging by the state of excitement of the woman before me, it may not have been so superfluous... But pls next time, two out of three working would already be a 100% improvement...

Je n'ai pas tranche sur:

- the new-ish Tick & Live FNAC app (French Amazon) - originally a great idea: gather all the tickets bought on Fnac Spectacles (exhibitions, theatre, concerts, etc) in one place on one's iPhone. No need to queue to get them printed (very 19th century once you have booked all on the Internet), no need to pay the price of another ticket to get them sent to your house (when they arrive), no need to fight with your printer or emails to print them at home (when you get to retrieve them). So what is the issue then? Only 1 out of 5 tickets can be downloaded on the app. The rest has to be queued for, sent at home or printed... Once it becomes universal, it will be brilliant

Je veux essayer:

- the Artel Polka Dot tumblers (pictured): dots are being fashionable these days with Kusama designing for Vuitton and Lichtenstein all over the European contemporary art museums. These glasses are designed for the Bohemian glassware company Artel and can be found on www.artelglass.com or www.artedona.com

J'ai aime: - Coretta (pictured) - yes everyone is talking about it, in Paris and elsewhere, and everyone is right. In a rather unappealing area (rue Cardinet, corner with bd Pereire), within a stone's throw of fashinable Batignolles, this neo-bistro is named after Coretta Scott King, the widow of Martin Luther King. Everything is good is this eco-friendly place, but what I particularly liked is the beautiful terrace. Try everything, come back, and try everything again. (Coretta, 151bis rue Cardinet, Paris 17e)

- TRX - a totally great way to work out at home, or in very small space. Born from the mind of an ex Navy marine more than a decade ago, this is the work out gear that totally ensures that you get as much muscle pain as humanly bearable the next day (https://www.trxtraining.com)

- Market - we often forget about old restaurants in our favourite cities, that used to be hot and trendy when they opened, and of which no one talks any more. Market (7 avenue Matignon, Paris 8e) is in this category, and I will endeavour to talk about one of these places every week now. Delicious food (tuna tartare, pizza alla rucola, steamed saint-pierre, chicken with carrots and garlic), good enough service, large space and even a small terrace - what's not to like

- Bates Motel - the TV shows that is meant to be the prequel of Psycho, describing the teenage years of Norman Bates before he becomes what we all now. Excellent script, where nothing is really as it seems, beautiful landscapes, interesting secondary characters, there are already two seasons. Watch it, wont tell more. Dont wanna be a spoiler...

Je n'ai pas aime - the Eurostar business class - it was so horrendous that I had prepared a whole post about it, but then I decided we all had better things to do. In no particular order - for a 620 euros ticket: sitting in the only business coach (Eurostar smartly parks all the business travelers in one coach, whilst part of the motivation to buy a business ticket is precisely to get more space) which was the one with a permanent whistling (sorry Sir, this is the air con machine, it is either that or no air con...), no choice of food, a lunch tray that had max 450 calories (good for diet, but not if you have a whole day to go by afterwards), I could list for another 20 lines all the things that went wrong. I would have said Eurostar is the best ad for Air France, if it was not for the Air France pilot strike...

- Mary Goodnight - what a waste. The space is gorgeous, even the location could have been an advantage, opposite le Murat, where the food, which was never the reason to go there, started a long time ago to be a good reason not to go there, so why is this such a waste? The owners have hired Thiou, of Quai d'Orsay fame, which promised a lot. The answer is simple: the service. Unpalatable. Not the food (pretty good, although of lesser quality than in the original Thiou), but the service. Entering into a completely empty restaurant (was quite early for lunch), I pick any table as encouraged by the guy placing me. Too bad, this was the only table where I could not sit as "it was booked specifically". Did you ever try to book specifically a table in a restaurant? Unless you know the name or the number of the table of course, which 99% of the people don't, even in places where they are very familiar. And unfortunately Mary Goodnight is not one that will have many regulars if they continue welcoming people this way

- Frame Brasserie - the restaurant of the Pullman hotel, right at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, which has several well-published peculiarities, in particular 1) being the first “franco-californian” brasserie in Paris and 2) grow its own herbs, vegetables and even flowers, at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower. Good to very good food, inventive recipes, but I am more doubtful on the decor (a bit impersonal and anachronic in this place) and the people. Definitely need to upgrade the latter

- Les parapluies de Cherbourg - was last week at Theatre du Chatelet in Paris, with Nathalie Dessay in Madame Emery, and Vincent Niclo as Guy. Opening curtain with Michel Legrand (newly wed!) on stage, craving for applause, interesting but fairly basic direction and scenography, what I believe left me a bit stranded on my chair was the everyday life side to it: should probably have remained the great film (that got Cannes’ Golden Palm in 1964) as the lyrics do not translate too well on stage. Good production though

- The Semiramis Hotel in Kifisia, Athens - built in 2004 by Karim Rashid and owned by Dakis Joannou, one of the 10 people who can influence the quote of a contemporary artist in the world, there is no better definition to it than a pop hotel. If you dont like bright yellow, pink and green, dont go there. Almost everything is in these three colours. The central pool is magnificent (pictured), the gym well equipped, the restaurant delicious, the breakfast enormous (if you want), even housekeepers speak perfect English. What to improve? Towels and glasses in the gym, a less overwhelmed staff when there are three people in the restaurant and some minor refurbishment in the rooms as the hotel is already 10 years old. What's to like? Pool bungalows with their private secluded terrace. And all the art collection. Gorgeous

- Thalasso Mou - a wonderful hidden gem on Pisso Alikyi beach in Paros. First, the (now famous) wow effect: a wonderful terrace under the trees, on the beach, by the sea. Then, the second wow effect: the food. Everything there is better than pretty much elsewhere on the island. Tarama to die for, aubergine puree mixed with enough but not too much garlic and coriander, delicious squid, impressive tuna tartare and tuna carpaccio, excellent chicken, not too many fried stuff, which seem to have invaded Greek cuisine to an unspeakable point

- Ida, by Pawel Pawlikowski - simple story: Poland 60s. A young novitiate nun is about to be confirmed into her vows but she is requested beforehand to meet her only living family member, an aunt she still has in her native village. And she discovers she is Jewish, and plenty of other secrets about her past. But summarising the story does not do justice to this beautifully made film. Very few dialogues, everything is in the director’s camera, his plans, his close ups, his suggestions. Watch on a big screen, but if you cannot, the iPad would do. But watch it. Brilliant

- the Air France lounge in Athens airport - was quite a long time I had not been. Immaculate state of cleanliness, seats far enough from one another not to have your neighbour peeping over your shoulder, huge and well stocked up Nespresso machine, German brown bread for health-conscious people, smiling and welcoming attendants, turbo-speed Wi-Fi that does not take half an hour to set up, one can even crash there when on an internal flight to the islands (hence not Air France), if one flew the day before into Athens. Only (small) shadow: perhaps a too eager housekeeper, who gave me the cold look when I dared cutting a piece of bread and leaving one half on the cutting board... When will the Roissy-based AF lounges take examples of what is great elsewehere in their network?

- Air France - yes again, and in the J'ai aime section of this column - I want to pay tribute to the most recent changes the French domestic airline is making: much more decent trays (although there is still some progress here to make), increase in general staff friendliness and above all a much welcome iPad app (AF Press) allowing anyone traveling on an AF flight to download an impressive amount of press from 24 hours before to 24 hours after their flight. Only change that is not an improvement in my view: this idea, copied on Lufthansa, that every member of staff has to call their VIP passengers by their name throughout the flight... Confidentiality, please

- Other People’s Money, by Justin Cartwright - a rather confidential book which one could easily mistake as a novel by Julian Fellowes as it deals with our favourite lord's recurring themes: class behaviour, reject or acceptance of socially different people, influence of money over education. The plot is simple: what is the impact on the different people of a rich household of the death of the paterfamilias and the coming of age of his son who just took over the family’s bank, on the back of the financial crisis, and just did whatever it took to survive. Interesting. Entertaining. Read it

- the men swimsuit department at Paris-based Bon Marche. I was telling myself that if there was one place in Paris where I could find Cuisse de Grenouille or McKeene swimsuits, and Friedricks + Mae beach towels, it would be there. Stupid! They have Orlebar Brown (which I have liked for years, but are nothing new, and the latest design of which with a sort of tourist photo on the suit is horrendous), Sundeck (this year's Villebrequin, but at least they dry more quickly) or Robinson des Bois (a few designs only would not make people confuse you with a Peter de Rome’s film star, but even then, the inner swimsuit is less than comfortable. And they take ages to dry). Mr Bon Marche, pls stock up for next year – and go outside your box

Je veux essayer

- Humin - THE new app which is meant to revolution your smartphones' (iPhones only for now) contacts and phone, as much as Evernote has revolutionned your note taking habits. Only available in the US for now, register on www.humin.com to be the first ones to know. Another app that would be great to have in Europe too would be Shake, which allows you to exchange contracts digitally

- Wists - what is this? A chip that you stick to your everyday life objects that you often lose, and allows you to geolocalise them. Available in September on www.wistiki.com - the first step into object connectivity?

An exhibition on enfermement (locking, imprisonment, sperring?) in the largest prison in Paris clearly, in France surely, and in the world after Australia maybe - normal says the press file. Not very original I think. We all have seen dozens of times the works bought or commissioned by Francois Pinault: Venezia, Versailles, randomly, even Fondation Maeght last summer. Now la Conciergerie. Where will he stop?

The first piece is Pistoletto' La Gabbia (the cage). As usual Pistoletto is witty, so witty that about 95% of the visitors do not realise it is a piece of art. "Please, don't touch. It is art, says the guard. Oh really, is it art? says an astonished tourist". I have stayed 10 minutes in front of it, and only one person has stopped. Poverino Michelangelo!

The imprisonment in the second piece, a video by Diana Thater, is more provided by the set up of the screens, pentagonally circling around visitors, than by the films themselves. At this point, I am already fed up with all the philistines standing between the screens and the projectors - after a day of Perrotin's contemporary art vulgarisation, I feel that la coupe est pleine when it comes to dealing with people and contemporary art. Almost alone in this space now, I quickly immerse myself in Thater's world of superpositions. Gesperrt, ich fuehle, despite the swan swimming on the deep blue sea. The piece is titled Chernobyl. What the hell are the swan and the sea doing here? No comment

One cannot really comment on Bill Viola's Hall of Whispers, slow, high quality resolution images, sinking you in the videos, as usual. It has to be experienced, a bit like the top floor of Collection Lambert in Avignon, designed by Claude Leveque. The title is funny though. Hall of whispers, for a video installation that shows five people on each side of the room, with gags, trying to speak. But why the hell do they also close their eyes?

Back in the light, and a more usual setting. Raphaelle Ricol's Malgre la difference is brilliant (pictured). Watch the photo. So self-explanatory. Note to self: explore the rest of Ricol's works. The opportunity is given to me subito: Sans titre (gaz et telephone) is a lot less witty than the first piece, which, btw, has been massacred by the editor of the leaflet, who only shows half of the painting, and therefore takes away completely the message

The four paitings by Iranian artist Ahmed Alsoudani look like a Bacon study that has met a grumpy Gilles Barbier. Not my cup of tea

Boris Mikhailov on the leaflet looks like a gay icon: again, the editor has chosen to show two sailors with their pompoms, enhanced by subsequent colouration of the photo. Not the best choice of topic, Mr Editor, Mikhailov is the contemporary Arbus, not Mapplethorpe! But Mikhailov technique is quite clear. Just that it has been a long time since we heard about USSR. And I am clearly not a millenial...

Bertille Bak's video looks like a photo by Stephane Couturier. I don't understand the piece by Mona Hatoum that follows. With such pieces, one needs an explanation on the piece itself, not on the artist. My favourite by her remains the string of swings presented a couple of years ago at the MacVal. Then Pinault's blue eyed girl, Ethiopian artist Julie Mehretu. I have never been so fond of her work, and I don't really understand the rapport between the pieces presented here and imprisonment. Is it more subtle, such as Mehretu being the next artist presented in Versailles? Ooops, sorry, I promised myself I will not go there

Most of the videos with sound here are presented with headset - I would have preferred the sounds to intermix, like in the basement of the Palais de Tokyo. That would have been an acoustic imprisonment

Temps mort by Mohamed Bourouissa. I can stay there for hours. At first, I wonder why the quality is so poor. Then I realise it is filmed with a mobile phone, and meant simply to describe the usual Parisian life, and directed at someone who is locked away. In prison. And lives a temps mort. This is the most powerful piece so far. Everyone passes by. No one gets it. I feel like shouting; instead I transform myself in mediateur - and summons people to sit down, watch and listen. Not much success, I am afraid

Sun Yuan and Peng Yu's Old Persons Home is amazing, especially given two of these people move - they are all on wheelchair. But more striking is the mix of people who seem to co-habit in this pensioners’ home: all religions, all nationalities, all dignities. A contemporary Noe's Arch? A Russian girl in the corner is patting the resin head of one of Yuan and Yu's characters. Oh, creepy!

The collection of works by Llyn Foulkes reminds me of John Stezaker, who I believe is regaining momentum on the art scene. Tellez video installation looks like Pinault-owned Vezzoli's video with Sharon Stone and BHL playing the Clintons, that has been widely exhibited. Inside though, it is more Gillian Wearing-like

Yet another Hirst's pharmacy

Then I feel like a voyeur in an interior designed by Kristian Burford, half-way between a failed Maria Pergay designed house, and something undescribable. I am less charmed by the pieces by Justin Matherly and Chen Zen. And Tetsumi Kudo. And Alina Szapocznikow - sort of 3-D bacon, with a negative twist. And Maria Marchal, the message of whom I don't really get

Fortunately, before the end, Frederic Kunath shows a welcome piece, the Past is a Foreign Country. Mix between recklessness of tropical shirt, head imprisoned in a snowball and focus, almost locked-in face of the Duane Hanson-like character, is he really trying to forget the past?

Last piece, commissioned for this exhibition, White Elements, executés à Wavre, by Belgian duo Jos de Gruyter and Harald Thys. Beyond the wit of the title, I don't understand the overall piece. Perhaps here again, a dedicated explanation would have been a good idea

At the end, I buy the catalogue. Funny, one of the authors is Marie Darrieussecq... Again, no comment

All in all, was really worth seeing, mainly for the video by Bourouissa, the pensioners' home by Yuan and Yu and the discovery of Raphaelle Ricol. One big regret is about the curation, as often: not enough explanations on the pieces themselves. And as everyone knows, contemporary art has at least three levels of comprehension: first, the aesthetic one - less obvious in most videos or the most innovative pieces; second, the do-I-understand-what-the-artist-means one; and third, the do-I-agree-with-the-artist's-point-of-view one? I am afraid, I only went one and a half level down on average here. But I don’t feel I have been taken for a ride

Lille is not far from Paris. It is even closer than Brussels is. One hour et des poussieres after having painfully boarded a TGV that had to be replaced because it was broken and as a result left 20 minutes late, I arrive at Lille Tri Postal 3000. I don't know what Tri Postal is, or rather I did not know until the Galieristissime decided to instal his 25th birthday there. Why so far from Paris? Or so close? It was ballsy

Before the show, one is greeted by some doughnut scent as one exits the Lille train station. Feels like passing by the back door of Harrods. And the delightful smile of the wardrobe clerk. "Salut ma beauté”, her colleague shouts. Hum... Not quite

Exhibition greeting is provided by Scandi-duo Elmgreen & Dragset. After having ridiculed Wellington on Trafalgar Square, and subsequently sold it at the Frieze this year for one million something, they install Irina (pictured) opposite a Phantom covered with tar and feathers. Disgrace, they call it. Amusing to have two opposite symbols of wealth starting what promises to be one of the largest examples of a passion for rich people (read, contemporary art)

Bernard Frize (not Frieze...) sets up a dialogue with Jean-Michel Othoniel in the first large room. I like the idea of dedicating large rooms to major artists - even if it does not really tell a message. Unfortunately, this will not be the case throughout the show. One could also regret that some of the more inventive works by Othoniel (the boat he found in Marseilles, the Chinese calculator, etc) are not there. But let's move on

Another room, another dialogue: Paola Pivi's animals respond to the nude and young bodies of Ryan McGinley. Not much of McGinley for now, which has been so ubiquitous in every fair last year

In the same room, not sure why, the founding act of the Perrotin-Calle cooperation: the two tailings, twenty years apart, exposed on the walls a la maniere de Sophie Calle. By Sophie Calle. The style of the detectives, although from the same agency (the famous Duluc), has evolved between 1981 and 2001. But I am preoccupied elsewhere. I remember my two brief encounters with the artist. And my unusual shyness when I came to speak to her during a break she was taking in Avignon a couple of years ago from reading her mother's carnets. It is difficult to convey wittily one's admiration for a creative soul in a 90 second punch line. I think I failed. Admired artists should never be spoken to briefly. They should not be spoken to at all, or invited in for a long lunch

In the corner, Cattelan's INRI horse is still lying. Not his best piece

Somehow, Guy Limone's rosy magazine tapestry reminds me of the staircase of the MAMCO in Geneva

1st floor, room 5. All dedicated to JR. Massively innovative artist, but here also one regrets that the many pieces exhibited here do not convey fully this originality - at least to the neophyte. I remember one piece, in a friend's dining room, which was a lot better. Not a photo, or a photo on several pieces of woods. In the contiguous room, JR's film, Women are heroes takes us up to the next level. It gives the viewer the impression to touch the favellas the same way seeing people assume blind people need to touch the world around them to move swiftly: without discontinuity. I leave the room as the famous image of the train with eyes shows on the screen. Big success in the limited audience. Well deserved

Next, Pieter Vermeersch and his pigments. Interesting on full plain walls, but I prefer his paintings. People around me don’t get it. Their loss

Room 7 is messy and does not, in my view, pay enough tribute to Parreno, Eric Duyckaerts (one of my favourites, but I did not know he was - still - with Perrotin) or Maiko Mori. Special mention to the video by Yeondoo Jung, animated version of Laurie Simmons' dolls and Casebere's Prisoner-like villages

Then the two enfants cheris: Murakami and Hirst. The Japanese guru pulls a Jeff Koons with a balloon, but unlike Koons, it is really inflatable plastic. The series of Jellyfish Eyes (Tatsuya, Saki and Max&Shimon) is pleasant. The room dedicated to Hirst is a good representation of almost all his series: splash painting, dot painting, a pharmacy, fish in formaldehyde, everything is in there. Even the When logics die series(1991-99) is quite witty, and would gain to be exhibited more often

Room 10: Germaine Richier (the only one that does not have a wall explanation of her work and who she is) dialogues with Claude Rutault. I am progressively getting to understand Rutault, but our initial encounter was not spectacular. I think he should be considered a method more than anything else

Room 11 is again a patchwork. Andre (one of the few people, perhaps with actress-turned-director Zabou, to be better recognised by their first name alone) is showing off a candycrush-styled Baron. Mr's piece reminds me of 1980s cartoon Candy (again...), after a meeting with Murakami. Chiho Aoshima comes also from Murakami's studio and could be the hyphen between the Japanese master and a Dali-esque vision of the world

One floor up. Will Perrotin do as Pinault once did (still does?) in Venice, ie showing more minor artists as we go up in floors? It does not seem to be the case. Firman shows off his elephant, only held by his trump. Hernan Bas, one of the latest to have joined the stable of Perrotin's proteges, is on the opposite wall - back to painting for the art world, Bas is spot on in this trend, which has been widely exhibited last year. Farhad Moshiri still write with knives. Esteve, Hildebrandt, Zimmerman, Day Jackson (who would also have deserved more space) are jammed in the next room

Superstars of the Perrotin stables, Creten, Trouvé and Veilhan, each of them deserves their own room, and get it, Veilhan with a very interesting table full of representations of architects in various scales and various materials (wood, gold, silver, ebony, bronze etc)

The last section shows brilliant films by Ivan Argote and Jesper Just, and surprising pieces by Klara Kristalova - I love the Fish Market, all in deep dark rooms, accentuating the dramatic effect of the pieces

Ca y est, after more than two hours, it is sadly over. And I wish it continues up on a third floor

All in all, a very mainstream but high quality contemporary exhibition. But hold on a second, why is it mainstream? Would that not be because Perrotin has been promoting his artists really well. So well that they have become the most famous amongst contemporary artists. Happy Birthday, Mr Perrotin. And well done

Happy Birthday Mr Perrotin

Galerie Emmanuel Perrotin 25th birthday

Tri postal Lille, next to Lille-Europe or Lille-Flanders train station

J'ai aimé: - Jonathan Adler (pictured), on Sloane Avenue, London - for some reason I had missed the opening of this shop 2 years ago. A lot more spacious than the one on Greenwich Avenue, and packed with even more stuff, from chic laquee bathroom gear in pop colours to psychadelic rugs and great dinner presents - Santo - very North of Notting Hill my friend said, who invited me there. Is it the new NoHo? I dont know but clearly it could be the new place to be. Ceviches to die for, incredible tacos, profusion of pork belly marinated in orange and lamb cooked i dont know how, this is far from where I live but as Mr Gault and Millaut would say, clearly merite le detour - Paul McCartney's new album, very topically titled "New". It is Paul's sixteenth album, and it gathered 4 producers, including DJ Mark Ronson and Giles Martin, the son of Beatles producer Sir George Martin. Early successes include New, and Queenie Eye, the video of which is packed with Paul's good friends, such as Johnny Depp, Kate Moss, Jude Law or Meryl Streep. Very entertaning, very catchy - Top of the Lake, a new TV series by Jane Campion. The atmosphere is vaguely reminiscent of last year's Les Revenants produced by Canal+ - probably because in both, a lake is one of the main characters - but New Zealander landscapes filmed by Campion, of The Piano fame, are gorgeously superb. The intrigue is also quite catchy: a 12-year old Australo-Thai disappears, after having confessed she is pregnant. And Elisabeth Moss - the awkward secretary in Mad Men - is a lost detective from Sydney in charge of finding her (am no spoiler, this is all in the first episode) - Cameron Diaz - because she is Cameron Diaz (@CameronDiaz) - and Bob Mankoff (@BobMankoff) - the New Yorker cartoonist - joining Twitter Je n'ai pas aimé: - Vodafone customer service: have got two phone lines and an iPad with them and am a business customer. And despite that I need to wait at least half an hour to check when my contracts are up for renewal. Come on, Vodafone, lets be serious #KingsRoad - Harrods - why on earth do they say it is open until 8pm on Saturdays if the gift-wrapping people leave at 7? #laziness Je n'ai pas tranche sur: - the Paris Photo VIP lounge: why so few tables and so much empty space? Good point for the inventive salads though: lentils with foie gras, fenel and watercress with feta, orange and grefeuit navels

- La Voile Blanche, the top floor restaurant of Pompidou Metz museum: nice padrone di casa, eager to give out his mobile number to facilitate next time booking, decent cuisine even if a bit too oily, stunning terrace, what's not to like in this good alternative to provincial invigorating cuisine? (http://www.centrepompidou-metz.fr/fr/node/266)

- Social Eating House, 58 Poland (not Pollen) Street, London - casual offshoot of Pollen Street Social located in nearby Soho, this is a nice addition to the Soho restaurant scene, especially when one does not want to have the lengthy type of dinner of Dean Street Townhouse (otherwise delicious). Try the mushrooms on toast, a delight (www.littlesocial.co.uk)

- las Chicas, new chich concept store in Tangiers - in an old family house, Ayda and her two accomplice have created a Moroccan Colette, at the entrance of Tangiers' casbah. If you are after a chich Moroccan style outfit (Kenza Melehi, Said Mahrouf, Amine Bendriouch), some nice accessories (Andy Wahloo, Lup31 or Rock Da Casbah), or simply want to have a tea or breakfast, stop by Ayda and friends. Welcome also are the decoration pieces (carpet, painting, lighting) gathered around the world by Ayda's informants. No website yet but stop by at Las Chicas de Tanger, 52 rue Kacem Guenoun, Tanger, +212 539 374 510

- le Petit Marius - again a small offshoot, that of Marius et Jeanette, avenue George V in Paris. Not much to say apart from a nice fish menu, delivered quickly, of good quality, and an impressive crowd: when I was there last week, I rubbed shoulders with the most upcoming French fashion designer, the well known PR of an old fashion designer, and a couple of star bankers. What else?

Je n'ai pas aime:

- Air France's one row business classes: not only you get the 3-year old on row two behing you kicking in your seat, but you also get to hear all the fascinating conversation of the crew, that has to shout to cover the aircraft natural noise. Nice anecdote on a flight to Barcelona last week. Me to the purser: "This is a very noisy plane". The purser, clueless, to me: "Yes Sir, we are preparing the cabin for landing". Me: "I am talking about your conversation for the whole flight, on a 7am flight, when I would like to sleep". Him: "Sorry that we exist" (difficult to translate in English as it is such a poor comment). Incroyable, non? What will airlines do when they have driven the few people who still travel business on short-haul away from paying business prices for less than two-hour flights?

Je veux essayer:

- the Stutterheim raincoats (pictured) - a new, high-end brand of raincoats created by Alexander Stutterheim from Sweden, allegedly created from an old piece of his grandfather's raincoat found in his attic. Made in Arholma, which is also the name of one of the models, it comes in many bright colours. A good alternative to your tired Burberry trench coat? (www.stutterheim.com)

On a rainy Sunday afternoon, I have decided to check whether the Paris version of the Lichtenstein exhibition is so much better than the London one (that took place some time ago at the Tate Modern - see this blog for review). And perhaps to patch things up with Simon Hantai, Hungarian-born, French-naturalised painter that travelled to Italy by foot, and taught the world how to fold a sheet

There is a queue even for members. Good start, especially under the rain. Gave me the motivation to send a tweet - let's see if I get an answer. Inside, the loudspeaker beams messages trying to discourage people to go for Lichtenstein. 45 minutes of additional queue... And zip for Hantai. Even beyond death, unequality continues...

Here we are. Gallery 1. Simon Hantai. The guys checking tickets for the third time are discussing how to change the world in a left-wing movement. Tout un programme!

For those who don't know Hantai, he is the XXth century painter who has painted the highest number of pieces looking awfully similar to a Rorschach test. But the exhibit starts with a radically different piece: Peinture, painted in 1959 ie one year exactly before he starts his folding technique. It looks like a representation of hell by Jerome Bosch from the far. Or a miniaturised photo of Angelo Musco. There is also some Jan Fabre in Hantai's first works (in the early 50s). And more naturally some Tanguy, Dali, and other surrealist fellows. Some of the paintings would actually have had some relevance at last year's La Maison Rouge "Sous influence" exhibition...

I have to say that I did not know this period's paintings - and I like them very much. Colourful, detailed, mixing sometimes media (some of them have animals' skulls or bones planted in them), they are very interesting. They also help understand clearly how Hantai went from his artistic roots (Budapest painting school, and slightly later, surrealist painting) to the famous pliages. I have here to pay tribute to the curator: the chronological presentation of the works is brilliant - and didactically clear, which is good for a painter that had not been exhibited in Paris for fourty years. The sobriety of some of the pieces (eg Souvenir de l'avenir, 1957) is aesthetically impressive

The "petites touches" - small strokes, that represents more or less the liaison between the gestual painting of the early 50s and the folding technique of post 1960 - is incredibly powerful. It almost created a two-tier reading of the works, one from the far (ie a cross or some reflection in the water, in A Galla Placidia, pictured, one of his most well know works, 1958-59), and one from closer (the famous petites touches)

And here comes the foldings. Mariales, first, in four series (a, b, c and d – no more imagination for the titles once he thought about folding the canvasses) where the whole canvas is painted, sometimes with small white areas in the middle. Catamurons then, where a blue area is placed at the centre of an otherwise white canvas, supposedly inspired by a blue beach towel drying on a door close to a white wall in a house called Catamurons, rented by Hantai for his family. And the series of the panses, figuring really the rumen of an animal, which could have inspired René to imagine the most bizarre shapes

Then, in 1967, the Hantai family moves to Meun near Paris. And Hantai produces the series of Meuns. I admire this simple psychological disposition... The Meuns seem to breathe a bit more than the previous series. Colours get a bit more complicated, but also a bit more dull. The curator compares them to Matisse's collages, but I disagree. Have a look, and you tell me. For me, the interest that I find in Hantai works seems inversely proportionate to the surface of white that seems to invade his canvasses in the late 60s. A matter of taste

The 70s continue the trend with the Etudes, monochromatic pieces with always more non-painted inside, but demonstrating more minutiae than the Meuns. And the Blancs, with more colours. And always more whites

The exhibition ends with the Tabulas, a series that suddenly reminds me of the One Thousand Windows on the World by Gary Hume. The folding is different this time, and produces regular frames on the canvas, with Hantai's self-famous star-spray effect between the various rectangles. Again, and still, I am missing the middle-aged Hantai

In the middle of this original exhibition, it all came back to me: my first encounter with Hantai was through one of his works where I believe he used a four-colour biro, like children have at school, and wrote/drew simultaneously with the four colours. I cannot remember where I saw it, nor was I able to find this work in this exhibition. But Ecriture rose (1958-59) or Peinture (1959), or any of the petites touches-ecritures pieces definitely reminded me of it. Mr Hantai, I liked you, until you turned 38. I liked the depth of your work. And I have liked you less since, as your work, for interesting though it has been since you invented pliages, has become more unidimensional, physically and metaphorically. But Paris was wrong to ignore you for fourty years, so people of Paris, rush to Centre Pompidou, and pay tribute to Sir Simon. You have one week left

- Le Ciro's - from its days when it was the pretentious and not so good restaurant in Deauville, the Ciro's has grown into one of the best places to have lunch or dinner on the Normandy coast, and clearly on the Deauville boardwalk, the famous Planches de Deauville. Perfect sole, delicious salmon starter, mouthwatering puddings for those who like them, and excellent service (Le Ciro's, boulevard de la Mer, 14800 Deauville, +33 231 14 31 31, or go through the concierge at Normandy or Royal to book)

- Qui plume la lune - the best newcomer (or not so new anymore) on the Parisian food scene in years. Everything is great about this Bastille tucked away outpost, from the smile of the owner to cuisine of the chef (who I believe is also an owner). Named after an 80s film with Jean-Pierre Darroussin of Mes Meilleurs Copains fame (Y'a pas l'feu au lac, on va s'faire un super cafe...), this Flintstone-decorated place has a simple principle: guests do not chose what they want to eat, but share their dietary requirements and the number of dishes they want (2, 4 or 5). Then the chef adapts, feeding you with always the same quantity of food (i.e. the size of the dishes decreases as the number of courses increases). Expect a festival: perfect nera di sepia risotto, warm foie gras, and amazing fish, cheese to die for, even the puddings (which I do not normally like) are worth it. And if something is missing, not on the menu or you want to taste a new wine, just ask, the owner is there, with smart ideas and good advice - and a smile. To the point one believes we are not in Paris anymore...

- the appearance of trays on the Eurostar luggage belts for a couple of months now - I did not want to write about it before, as I was worried this would disappear, as all the good ideas usually do, but this avoids having to take one's jacket to the laundry each time one commutes between Paris and London. After 25 years of existence, great innovation!

- that Air France boarding passes now work with Passbook. SO CONVENIENT, well done! If Aegean - great airline btw - could do it, Air France could as well, and did it. For those who don't know how it works, when you check in online on your iPhone (do it on the Air France app, not on the site), you get asked "Save to Passbook". Press on it, and your boarding pass pops into the Passbook app, which is built in with iOS 6. All your passes in one place, and your iPhone gets a bit more tidy

- Manchester - first time in Manchester this week, and clearly a nice beautiful provincial Britland city. Stay at Radisson Blu, convenient, mega-nice staff, great spa and gym and very central, if not super charming. One point of caution for fast lane travelers: the Manchester airport lounge operates "a strict three-hour policy. Even if your flight is late, you will be required to vacate the premises after three hours". Ah, le charme discret de la provinciale bourgeoisie...

- Bright lights, big city by Jay McInerney. Everyone knows, or should know, McInerney. At least every fan of Scott Fitzgerald, Brett Easton Ellis and other writers who have made a name in describing wittily the f***ed up way of life, East Coast or West Coast, of the American jeunesse doree. The plot is simple: a quite well-born fils de famille gets an inferior job at a good newspaper and marries an aspiring model. And from there on, everything gets in shambles... Quick beach reading

- Vanity Fair, French version. I had not bought the first issue, but the second one is remarkable. Lots of articles with content, Pistorius, Hepburn, Saint-Laurent, Galliano, even if the topics are not always unheard of, the wealth of details in the content deserves tribute

- the rejig of Daft Punk's Get lucky by Stephen Colbert - initially a simple story: Daft Punk cancelled on Colbert (whose Colbert Report is broadcast on Comedy Central) on the back of their exclusivity contract with MTV. So Colbert called upon his address book to produce a "slightly amended" version of Get Lucky. When one's friends are call Matt Damon, Jeff Bridges, Mel B or Hugh Laurie, this proves even better than the original one. Watch on YouTube

Je n'ai pas aime:

- Monsieur Bleu - yes, everyone has been talking about it for weeks, months even. Yes, it was expected to display the same cocktail of babes, unbearable waitresses, standardised food and power people than any new high profile restaurant opening in Paris (the previous one with so much hype having probably been the Ralph's). Yes, the place is wonderful and the terrace is breathtaking, even though some are disappointed to face a busy road. I so wanted it to be a success that I went multiple times. Each time: a total fight to book a table (no phone bookings apparently possible, closed for 2 weeks in August and do not take September bookings before the break), never a smile at the entrance and they manage to fatify (yes, fatify), even the healthiest dishes (why the heck add cream on seabass carpaccio). It is a shame. I will continue to go, as I want it to succeed but please, Monsieur Bleu, put a smile on the hostess face and teach her the rudiments of politeness, take out the cream and improve your booking system. Merci!

- the new HSBC retail banking app - the UK one works fine-ish, but the new French one is an absolute nightmare of complexity and failure. Complexity, because one needs at least a PhD in IT to be able to use it (it is so complex that explaining the mere complexity of it is too complex...). Failure because the iPhone app (not the iPad one so far) sometimes blocks itself (it gets Doctor Watsoned, for those old and geek enough to understand the joke) and never comes back. You then have to desinstall it, and reinstall it. I can cope, but what about my 90 year old grandmother?

Je n'ai pas tranche sur:

- Grille - THE place to have lunch these days in Paris. Think about it: a kebab place in the heart of uber-trendy Paris 2nd borough, with veal by Hugo Desnoyers, spelt bread, all of this dressed with white horseradish mixed with mint and coriander. Very good, indeed, but probably not to justify the hour of queueing that seems to be the norm these days. And the lack of tables (2 inside, 2 outside) means that it rules itself out from being used by people who do not work or lunch in the immediate surrounding. Some progress to make, but a welcome addition to the fast yet high-quality lunch (15, rue Saint-Augustin Paris 2e)

Je veux essayer:

- the Cardok parking system: the picture is self-explanatory. You dig into the ground and once your car is on the Cardok place, it goes deep in the ground, freeing up a nice garden above your garage. See the photo...

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